


To Be Seen

by thesassywallflower



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Cablanca, F/M, Rated Mature for just a slight bit of smut, but tagging just in case, it's nothing really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesassywallflower/pseuds/thesassywallflower
Summary: Her whole life Marta Cabrera has been invisible, until one fateful day someone finally sees her, and she realizes she never wants to be invisible again.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc & Marta Cabrera, Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 32
Kudos: 258





	To Be Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Welp my dudes, I've officially fallen hard for this little ship. So hard that a wicked little plot bunny grabbed me in it's tiny claws and wouldn't let go until I gave in and wrote this little ficlet. (I literally wrote it in half a day which never happens to me. Normally I'm the slowest writer ever.) I hope you enjoy it, and a million thank you's to my darling beta, Modmerseygirl.

Blue eyes followed her. Eyes so blue they looked like they’d been chipped from a wall of Arctic ice. They watched her. Took in every move she made. Noticed every nervous tick and fidget. 

Marta wasn’t used to being noticed. 

Prior to Harlan’s death, no one at Thrombey Manor but the old writer ever paid attention to her. No one, unless there was a problem. Until something came along that ruffled their cocoon of comfort and privilege. Something that interrupted their bickering. Something like a jagged coughing spell from Harlan or now, an odd Southern detective. But until then they didn’t notice her. Oh, they would say hello from time to time or distractedly ask how she and her family were doing, but all the while their eyes were locked on their phones or glass of alcohol. They never really saw her. Only Harlan Thrombey... Harlan, who out of all of the wealthy clients she’d cared for in the past, actually treated her not only like a human being, but as an equal and a friend. Harlan was the exception. Otherwise she might as well have been a table. Useful when needed, but otherwise ignored. That’s how she liked it.

Or at least that’s what she’d always told herself. 

Everything she did was specifically chosen to not draw attention to herself. Partly because she was the hired help. She was paid to blend in. To be just a step above a piece of furniture. 

Partly because one of the things a chronically ill patient desired above all else was to be normal, and having a private nurse around all hours of the day was not normal. So if that nurse was able to fit seamlessly into a person’s life and not draw attention to a patient’s sickness, then that made the patient feel better. That was a nurse’s calling after all, to provide help and comfort. 

But mostly it was because her mother had raised her to not draw attention to herself or her family. To keep her head down and not cause waves. Attention was the enemy. Attention made people look at you and once they started looking, they started seeing things. Things must not be seen at all cost. Things that would tear their little family and the life they’d worked so hard to create here in America to shreds. 

It helped that Marta was quiet by nature. Her mom always said that as a baby she only cried when she was hungry, but even then it was never full fledged wails, just fussy whimpers. Growing up she preferred playing by herself with her dime store Barbie knockoffs rather than joining the kids on the playground. She preferred books over friends. As she got older, her studies took the place of any chance at a young romance or two. Sure she would have a crush now and then. There were times when envy and loneliness threatened to strangle her as she watched her classmates fall in and out of love, but the pursuit of good grades was more important. 

Good grades meant scholarships, and scholarships meant college and nursing school. Good grades meant she could get a decent job and finally be able to help her mom pay the never ending cycle of bills. 

A decent job meant her mom wouldn’t have to work so hard. That her mom could finally afford to take the whole weekend off every week rather than just one Sunday a month. It meant that Alice could go to school wherever she wanted. That she could be free of this town and be as boisterous and flamboyant as her little magenta and neon orange soul wanted to be, and not have to worry who might be looking at her.

So for the sake of her family, Marta kept her head down and learned how to blend in. How to become wallpaper. How to camoflauge her emotions behind a quiet smile and downward gaze. How to be unseen.

Until Mr. Blanc walked into the manor. He saw her. And not just her outward appearance, Marta was sure those piercing eyes could see right through her. Could see the quaking, scared little girl who’d unintentionally killed the only friend she’d had in years. The first two days he was here those eyes terrified her. She wanted to be invisible again, but no matter where she went, she couldn’t hide from them. Couldn’t hide from him. Not even when she’d tried to run. But remarkably, even when he was interrogating her, those soul searching eyes never held any scorn or suspicion. Just curiosity.

He saw her, and even at the disastrous reading of Harlan’s will when the family finally woke up and saw her too, the look in those eyes didn’t change like the family’s eyes did. There was no desperate hatred, no disbelief, or needy hunger or-or sneering derision. They still just held curiosity, only it was now mingled with concern. 

It was the concern that made her want to hide even more. Concern meant he would want to dig even deeper into her life. Concern meant he actually cared what happened to her. Marta wasn’t used to people caring about her. There were exactly three people who cared about her and one of them was now dead. She didn’t know if she could handle a fourth. Especially one as important of a man like Mr. Blanc. She was the one who did the caring for others not the other way around. Because if she was being honest, she wasn’t worthy of concern. She was nothing.

But then her secret was out. He knew everything that had happened the night of the fateful birthday party, and she no longer needed to hide from him anymore. She didn’t have to worry about him pulling off her camouflage and rifling through her secrets because he knew them all anyways. Everything was out in the open. She should’ve been terrified, but instead she was relieved. He knew what she’d accidentally done to Harlan and the game he’d made her play just to help her and to hide her guilt. He even knew the truth about her mom. He knew and he was still concerned about her. Miraculously it seemed she now had something she hadn’t even known she desperately needed: a friend.

After Lieutenant Elliot and Trooper Wagner dragged Ransom off her and hauled him to their patrol car, Benoit (when had he become Benoit rather than Mr. Blanc?) gently pulled her to her feet, his large hands surprisingly rough and calloused. She had assumed they'd be soft and smooth, a gentleman’s hands, not a carpenter’s. Then wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, he led her away from the family’s cries of shocked outrage to the second floor parlor, stopping at the kitchen along the way to thrust a mug of coffee into her freezing hands. Once inside the room, the day's events crashed over her, and she began to shake. 

Benoit took one look at her and hauled her into his arms, once again surprising her with his physical strength. All too soon their embrace was over and he was guiding her to the small settee as he pulled a chair up across from her, their feet nearly touching as he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned towards her.

“You are a good person, Marta.” His deep voice rumbled, all elongated syllables and rolling vowels. It caressed her ears and made her, to her blushing mortification, long to know what it felt like to have that drawl whispering across her bare skin. Where in the world had that thought come from? Emotions ricocheted through her entire body as the thought took hold and she began to imagine the large hands currently trying to chafe some warmth into her numb fingers stroking warmth along other places on her body. Intimate places that were nearly weeping for a single touch. She wanted him as more than a friend. Shock reverberated through her. How had this happened so quickly? How had she begun to care for him in only a few days? There was no denying it though. She cared for him… And if she was really honest, she might be falling in love with him.

Now as she stared down at the angry faces below her, she realized that she was alone once again. Clarity woke her up like a bucket of ice water. These people would never truly see her. They only saw their narrow little world and needs. She’d always thought that she didn’t need to be seen, but now that she’d had someone truly see her heart and who she was as a person, she craved it. She’d never get it from the family, but maybe...maybe there was someone here that might be willing to give her what she needed. 

And she let him get away. Fear blossomed inside her. She was sure that he would just want to be her friend. After all, he’d never given her a hint that he thought of her as anything else, but maybe, hopefully eventually that could change? She would never know unless she stopped him

Scrambling away from the pack of greedy hyenas glaring up at her, she hurried back inside. It was empty. Of course he was already gone… But maybe there was a chance she could still catch him. She ran to the staircase. There! _Gracias a Dio!_ She caught sight of a navy blue blazer covered back stepping onto the landing halfway down the main staircase. How had she never noticed how broad his shoulders were?

With her heart in her throat, she called down...

***

“Benoit?”

He stopped in his tracks, one foot hovering in midair over the step below and spun around at the sound of his name. This was the first time she’d used his given name, and something deep inside immediately began purring at the sound of his name coming from that lovely mouth. Down, boy. 

Marta’s voice was everything warm and calm in the world. Soothing, but with a hint of spice. Like fresh nutmeg over a mug of hot buttered rum. From the second she’d opened her mouth to answer his very first question to her, her voice called to Benoit and made him want to listen to anything and everything she had to say. Not just to hear what she knew about the case, but to find out what she cared about, what her interests were. What and who she loved.

And those glowing hazel eyes...they drew him in and made him want to discover what secrets they held. They reminded him of the little creek behind his childhood home. His refuge where he would hide when the taunts and scowls from his classmates and teachers over his endless questions and curiosity became too much. They made him think of the mossy green banks that provided a luxurious cushion as he devoured stories about Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poroit, and the rippling amber water that had cooled his feet during the sweltering Georgia summers.

And he saw her. He saw what this whole damned family except their dead patriarch was blind to. Saw her kind heart and sweet spirit. Saw her fierce loyalty to Harlan and the desperate lengths she would go to protect him and her family. Saw how she desperately tried to hide so she could protect them. Saw her stubbornness and her dry sense of humor. And damn him, he saw her beauty. Saw it as quickly as he spotted that droplet of blood on her shoe. Her satiny skin and delicate, yet strong hands. Those soft curves and sinfully full lips. Lips that, fuck him sideways, he longed to drag sighs of pleasure from as his own lips caressed silken breasts and stroked moist hollows. 

He saw her and, like a lecherous old goat, couldn’t help but to want her for himself. But he would never tell her. It was not only improper to say such things to someone who was involved in one of his cases, but there was no way such a vibrant young woman would be interested in a man who was nearly old enough to be her father. 

“It’s getting late.” She said quietly as she approached him, stopping on the last step above him. “And-and I’m sure the last thing the family wants to do is spend another second here with me. Would you um-maybe like to stay here tonight? I know my mother and sister would, but I-I don’t think I’m ready to face them and answer all the thousands of questions my little sister will have. Besides there’s plenty of room and-and I really don’t want to eat dinner alone.” 

His heart squeezed at her stumbling words and the unspoken questions of her own in those shining eyes. Was it possible that she- No. Not possible. And yet... the way she nervously tugged the edges of the blanket closer to her made him think otherwise. Well, there was only one way to find out. 

“Marta,” he breathed. “I would like that very, _very_ much.”


End file.
